Luckily, the weapons systems on the yacht were located on its topside—as was the hydrogen-scoop propulsion system. Isla knew because Baslik had insisted on showing her the specs and boasting about his new toy’s, “massive capabilities.”
“There!” she shouted, pointing to one of the laser-ray ports, poking out of the sleek platinum hull. She wasn’t sure if the Drake could see what she was pointing at, so she pictured it in her mind and did her best to send the image across the strange mental connection they shared when she was touching him.
“I have it,” the Drake sent to her and then blew a blast of super-chilled air at the exposed and vulnerable port. It turned icy and a flick of his long tail disintegrated it to so much dust. Then he did the same to the other three ports.
Isla directed him to the propulsion system next—the hydrogen scoop was in the back, nearly hidden by the curve of the immense yacht. The Drake found it and froze it, rendering it completely useless with another blow from his tail.
By this time, the crew had noticed them. A lot of them were shouting and pointing and one enterprising man had climbed up to the hatch on the roof and poked his head out.
The Drake bared his great, curving fangs at him and the man gasped and disappeared like a small animal scurrying back into its hole. But a moment later, another head popped out and Isla recognized the captain.
“There it is!” he bellowed, pointing a blaster at the Drake. “And it has Lord Le’rank’s wife with it! Shoot it! Shoot!”
He took aim but the Drake shot a freezing blast at him, making the captain gasp and drop the weapon as though it had burned him. Then he was diving again—this time to the far side of Sark’s small, silver ship. The moment the Drake touched down on the ground, Isla felt him changing—shrinking.
In barely a second, she was no longer riding on the Drake’s back. Instead, she was sitting on Sark’s shoulders, with her legs dangling down his chest.
“Oh!” she gasped, but Sark had already slapped one big hand on the side of the ship, which opened automatically to his touch.
“Go—go!” he exclaimed, pulling her bodily off his shoulders and shoving her into the Kindred ship. “Get in and buckle up—hurry!”
He was right behind her and not a moment too soon. Glancing over her shoulder, Isla saw several of the yacht’s crew members coming around the side of the little silver ship with blasters drawn and ready to shoot.
Sark got the door closed just as the first laser blasts shot out, bouncing harmlessly off the reflective side of the ship. He was in the pilot’s chair a moment after that and a second afterwards, they were rising swiftly into the air, going so fast, it was all Isla could do to catch her breath.
Then they were up…up…and away into the darkness of space, leaving Fenushia Alpha and her old life behind.
Safe! Isla thought. I’m finally safe—no, we are safe. Sark and I! And Baslik is gone and the yacht can’t follow us! The Royal Family will never find me now! I’ll never have to see them or Baslik again!
Elation rushed over her and she turned to the big Kindred, who was concentrating grimly on the controls.
“Hang on, baby—want to get us out of range of all their systems,” he said without looking up. “The last thing we need is them tracking us and then relaying our position to any more of fucking Le’rank’s people.”
“Oh, of course.” Isla determined to sit quietly and wait for him to finish before she said anything. But then she began to wonder why the instrument panel was so bright.
Then she realized it wasn’t the panel that was bright—it was her.
Holding her arm in front of her face, she was horrified to see that her skin was glowing. Earlier it had taken on a pearly, rainbow sheen but now she was actually putting out luminescence as though she had some kind of light source inside her. Also, her breasts felt heavier than ever and she realized that drops of nectar were dripping from her tight nipples. Between her thighs, she could feel the honey gathering.
“The glow!” she gasped, hearing the despairing note in her own voice. “Oh no! Sark—I’m glowing!”
And then the first breeding cramp hit her and she doubled over in her chair, gasping in pain.
TWENTY-EIGHT
At first her words didn’t register with Sark. Then he looked over and saw that she was glowing like a miniature moon. Her pale skin was shining, throwing out rainbows against every possible reflective surface. Her long, silver hair was a halo around her head, making her look like an otherworldly being.
Finally he understood the name of her kind—for she truly did look like a Moonstone goddess—beautiful and wild.